Dressed to Kilt (A Scottish Highlands Mystery)

by Hannah Reed

  “I don’t know,” I said, stalling. “The murder case is top priority.”

  “But ye aren’t part o’ the investigation any longer, and the inspector has a suspect in custody. Are ye sayin’ Janet Dougal didn’t kill Henrietta and the case is reopened?”

  Bridie wasn’t an old goat. She was a wise bird! All the more reason to be careful in my word choices when dealing with her.

  “The case isn’t closed until a verdict of guilty is reached,” I said.

  “It isn’t yer problem. Unless ye’ve been reinstated . . .”

  “Uh, not exactly.”

  “Then once the roads are clear and dry, we’ll take a little road trip. Why, we might even go a little past Applefary intae Tainwick.”

  Tainwick? That name again. “Why Tainwick?” I asked, hesitant, not sure I wanted to find out.

  “Because, my dear girl, that’s where yer grandfather is buried. At the graveyard there. Applefary doesn’t haff its own.”

  I’d just been searching for connections between Henrietta, Katie, and myself. If I was prone to wild speculation, this was the link I’d been searching for only moments before phoning Bridie. It wasn’t much, but it was all I had.

  After careful consideration, I ended the call and summarily dismissed it.

  Or tried to.

  Until I remembered Vicki’s reaction when I’d mentioned that Henrietta and Katie both came from Tainwick. We’d been sitting at my kitchen table. She’d been disconcerted and dropped her fork, sputtering around, trying to cover up.

  She’d been rattled and for the life of me I couldn’t figure out why. At the time.

  Now I had a hunch, so I picked up the phone and called the inspector.

  “It’s Eden,” I said.

  After a slight pause, he said, “I’m guessin’ ye aren’t very happy with me or with recent decisions that I’ve needed tae make.”

  “That’s beside the point,” I said, knowing that he had my best interests in mind. Still, it hurt. “Henrietta McCloud and Katie Taylor are from Tainwick,” I continued, “and now I’ve learned that my grandfather is buried in the cemetery there. I’m wondering if there is a connection of some sort. Is there?”

  The inspector let the moment drag out before saying, “Ye’re supposed tae be enjoying yer last days in Glenkillen. Why aren’t ye plannin’ tae do some holiday shoppin’ fer yer friends back home? And until the roads clear, make a snowman or bake cookies. Enjoy.”

  “That’s what I keep hearing.”

  “And so ye should listen tae us.”

  Bake cookies! Really? “I’d like a rundown of your investigation into Henrietta’s past. All I know is where she’s from and that she had a lot of bad luck.”

  The inspector sighed heavily into the phone. “I can’t discuss the case with ye.”

  “And why not?” I wasn’t going away easily. “You have in the past.”

  “Ye were in an official capacity . . .”

  I interrupted. “You shared information with me long before that. I distinctly remember certain comments you made to justify it, something about my ability to see things that you couldn’t. I’m paraphrasing, of course.”

  “Look who’s the crabit today. And ye thought I was bad!”

  “And look who’s evading. You refuse to tell me what you’ve learned about Henrietta’s past and whether anything there could have contributed to her death. Maybe you have a theory to explain to me why my grandfather is buried in the same town she hails from?”

  “Applefary is a wee place. It’s one o’ those villages ye miss goin’ through it if ye so much as blink an eye. Tainwick is the closest village with a cemetery. Those who live and die in Applefary are almost always buried in Tainwick. There’s nothing unusual or mysterious aboot it. Is that a reasonable enough explanation fer ye?”

  “It might have been, except how did you know my family is from Applefary?” I demanded.

  I’d never told him.

  Vicki. They had had words about my connection to Tainwick. What was going on? And why was I being excluded from the conversations?

  Another heavy sigh on the other end. “Eden, please, ye’re makin’ this more difficult than it needs tae be. Let me do my job. It’ll all work out in the end. I promise ye that.”

  I must have made some guttural communication that disturbed him, because his voice grew harder. “And I’m gonna have tae warn ye tae stay away from the case and everybody involved.”

  “Fine!” I said, disconnecting without a proper good-bye. And “fine” didn’t necessarily mean I was agreeing to his outrageous demand. He couldn’t stop me from seeing anyone I felt like seeing. And I didn’t need the inspector for up-to-date information.

  I had Sean. For what that was worth.

  I stomped over to Vicki’s house unannounced and found Sean dozing on the sofa. Vicki was nowhere to be seen. In her room, no doubt, sleeping. “Where is Katie Taylor right now?” I demanded.

  Sean blinked and sat up.

  “Katie Taylor? Uh, away with her family,” he said.

  “Where?”

  “I can’t say . . .”

  “Then I will call the inspector and inform him of the lousy job you’ve been doing protecting me and will also mention that you’ve already blabbed when you shouldn’t have.”

  “Ye wouldn’t.” The thunder on my face must have told him otherwise, even though I wouldn’t have made that call. “Okay,” he said, “but ye can’t go saying how ye found out, if he ever asks.”

  “I assure you that I won’t.”

  “It’s like this,” he began.

  Katie, according to Sean, had been injured more seriously than initially believed. Even though I’d had several brief conversations with her, and on the surface she appeared perfectly normal, she had several residual effects. After the trauma to her head, she had experienced dizziness, difficulty sleeping without sleep aids, and memory loss, mostly short term.

  “She should have remained in hospital in Glenkillen,” Sean said, “but her family was worried about her safety. So they moved her tae a rehab facility in Invershnecky.”

  “Invershnecky? Do you mean Inverness?”

  “That’s wha’ I said.”

  After a few more threats from me, Sean divulged the name of the rehabilitation center. “Her mum is staying there with her. Her da had tae go back to Tainwick tae work.”

  “How’s Vicki feeling?” I asked.

  “She’s sick as a dog and will be sleepin’ most o’ the day. And there’s no use all of us getting what she has. I’m runnin’ into Glenkillen tae get some medications from the doc.” Sean hopped up. “I shoulda been on my way already.” He glanced at me. “But I’m tae keep ye in my sights. What are yer plans fer the day?”

  “I don’t have any,” I lied. “The roads are bad. I think I’ll just leave my car in the barn for the whole day, putter around at the cottage, do a little writing. Keep me posted on Vicki.”

  Sean shot me a doubtful look. “Ye aren’t going tae Invershnecky, now are ye?”

  “Hardly,” I snorted.

  “Then why did ye press me aboot Katie Taylor?”

  I shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess I was just thinking about her and hoped everything was okay.”

  I could see the relief register on his face. Now he could focus all his attention on caring for Vicki.

  Vicki’s voice came weakly from the direction of the bedroom. “Sean, who’s here?”

  “Eden, love, checkin’ on ye, but she isn’t visitin’ and gettin’ sick, too. I’m going out fer yer medications. Be back soon. Do ye need anything before I go?”

  “No,” came Vicki’s frail answer.

  Outside, I waved good-bye as Sean drove off in his Renault. Then I hurried back to the cottage and packed up whatever I might need for the day—laptop, phone, the dra
wing in case I had time to stop at Bridie’s—and while the car warmed up, I made sure my trusty road map was inside it. I also made certain that the pepper spray canister was in my pocket within easy reach.

  Braced for a drive that usually takes under an hour but would be much longer due to the road conditions, I set out for Inverness.

  I’ve been to the Highland capital city several times and have even driven it enough to have a smidgen of confidence when it comes to navigating the city center. I could find my way around. The rehab center was easy enough to locate after a brief visit to city hall for directions, and I parked and entered, requesting directions to Katie’s room. She wasn’t there, but an aide led me to an open, airy sitting room that overlooked a winter garden scene. Only a few branches of the barren ornamental trees were visible under the heavy snow.

  Katie was sitting up in an armchair with her mother beside her. The two looked so much alike there could be no mistaking their kinship. Mom, though, looked appropriately haggard as any mother would after the ordeal her daughter had been through.

  Katie recognized me immediately, and I wondered about the extent of her ability to remember. It seemed in fine working order as I introduced myself to her mother.

  “Elliott?” Katie said, obviously surprised, and I again recalled that I hadn’t shared my last name at our prior meetings. “Are ye related to the Elliotts o’ Applefary?”

  “I am,” I said, taking the seat her mother offered. “How are you doing?”

  “Pretty well, thanks. Did ye drive all the way from Glenkillen tae see me?”

  “I had other business here,” I said, becoming more comfortable in my deceptive practices. “And thought I’d come by and see how you were.”

  Her mom rose, probably relieved to have someone else to occupy some of Katie’s time, and said, “I’ll let you two visit.” She kissed her daughter on the cheek. “And be back in a few hours.”

  With that, we were left alone.

  “Have you remembered anything from the tasting that might be useful to the investigation?” I said, aware that I was misleading her again by letting her assume I was still part of the team.

  She shook her head. “No, and since ye ask, that must mean ye don’t know who did it.”

  “We have a few promising leads.”

  “I’ll feel much better when someone is arrested. Mum is worried about me.”

  “You think your attack is related to the murder?”

  “I’m not sure. At first I didn’t think so, but . . .”

  “. . . but your mom and the inspector are showing enough concern to make you wonder.” I could tell that was it. “We just want to be careful. And keep you safe. It won’t be much longer and it will all be over.”

  “Eden Elliott,” she said, turning the topic in a new direction. “Ye’re Dennis Elliott’s daughter, then.”

  I laughed. “You’re good. I remember that you like local history and are even intent on writing a book about some of the more mysterious happenings in the area.”

  Katie frowned and said, “That’s right. Who told you?”

  “You did.” This was the first indication I had that Katie hadn’t fully recovered.

  “I don’t remember that.”

  “Well, it isn’t important. I hope you aren’t planning an exposé on the Elliott clan,” I said with a laugh.

  Katie gave me a studied look. “Most of my research has been through interviews with family members or neighbors. Stories passed down from one generation tae the next. I’m afraid most of yer relatives were gone before I became interested in clan histories, although . . .” She paused, about to say something, then thought better of it and said, “There are a few Elliotts somewhere in the area, but I haven’t pursued them for material.”

  “Bridie eluded to that. Some distant cousins, I think she said.”

  So there was nothing to learn from Katie. No names or addresses. Just as well. That hadn’t been the purpose of my visit.

  She brightened before I could go on. “Once I’m back home, I could take on a new project, find out more o’ yer history in a proper fashion, but I can’t promise it’ll be all roses. Most accounts aren’t. And while there’s always some truth tae the old stories, they tend tae get twisted with the telling.”

  “Right now you need to focus on getting well. My family can wait.” Hadn’t I thought that often enough? “Right now I’m wondering if you did any research into the McCloud family.”

  “Funny ye should mention that. Before we left hospital fer here, I asked my mum to get some o’ my files and I’ve been reviewing them. Especially the one on Henrietta’s family. And I found a few interesting notes.” She gave me a sharp look again. “I believe there is a mention o’ Elliott in there as well. If ye really want tae take a peek.”

  “Absolutely,” I said, not bothering to hide a high level of interest. Never mind the Elliott, but reading about Henrietta’s family might give me some sort of clue to pursue. “Have you discussed this with the inspector?”

  “No, I only yesterday was up tae looking at my notes. I’ve been a wee bit dizzy and not able tae read much.”

  So I had a head start. I’d take it. Maybe I’d even learn something of significance and use it as leverage for an exchange of information with Jamieson.

  “The file is in my room,” Katie said, standing up.

  “Then what are we waiting for?” I said with a smile that was as bright as the North Star. “Let’s do some digging.”

  And with some luck, I thought, we’ll dig up a little dirt.

  CHAPTER 26

  I’m not sure when it occurred to me or the exact moment when I began to suspect that my father’s life and Henrietta’s were connected. Maybe I’d had an inkling for days, simply because the two subjects—an Elliott disappearance and a McCloud murder—had become intertwined in my mind, and I’d been unable to separate them. But as I drove back to Glenkillen several hours later after poring over Henrietta’s past with Katie, that inkling had found a basis in fact and had mushroomed into full-fledged North Star–quality illumination. Just like the smile I’d worn while following the budding historian to her room.

  It hadn’t taken long for that twinkle of delight to fade away under the harshness of reality.

  Katie’s notes had confirmed much of what Bridie had shared with me about Henrietta. Neighbors of the McCloud family had been willing to talk to Katie, since the family had moved away and therefore so had any threat of retribution from an alcoholic father who was quick to anger and raise his fists.

  “Instead of neglecting his family as many drunks do,” Katie had said, “he was a strict authoritarian, with rigid expectations. The girls couldn’t possibly be perfect enough tae escape his wrath.”

  With a mother too frightened of consequences to even attempt to intervene, the abuse had gone on throughout their formative years. Eventually, a relative stepped in on Patricia’s behalf. Patricia was five years older than Henrietta. This relative arranged for her to attend university, and she was sent off to Edinburgh, where she met and married Connor Martin. The rest of her story had been public knowledge as Connor climbed the political ladder.

  “So what are those points of interest you mentioned?” I’d asked Katie, thinking of Henrietta and wondering how she’d fared once her sister escaped.

  “Little gems,” she’d replied. “But are they real? Or are they fake?”

  “Tell me.”

  Rumors about the McCloud family weren’t hard to come by. Neighbors were quick to supply them. The father had ended up in prison somewhere in Glasgow. The mother had died, battered by her husband. The older sister, Patricia, had given birth to a child out of wedlock, the father of her child unknown.

  “Patricia had been away for several years before she had Gordon,” Katie said. “She married Connor shortly after, and he claimed the boy as his own.”
r />   So Gordon Martin had been a love child. Interesting but hardly of concern to the case. Or if it was, I hadn’t found a connection yet.

  “Speaking of love, Henrietta had her own richly described affair of the heart with a local young man,” Katie continued. “He was going to be her way out, her escape from a rotten home life, according to the neighbors. They’d watched her sneak out at night, witnessed a few of the trysts between the two. It was how she managed to cope, they said. He gave her hope.

  “Then one day he was gone. Henrietta moped around, waiting for him to come and rescue her. For months no one saw her leave the house. She’d become a recluse, pining away, wasting away. Until the day that Bridie Dougal agreed to have her as an employee. That’s the last the neighbors saw of her.”

  “Interesting,” I said.

  “At one time I’d intended to pursue more documentation, try to substantiate some of those details,” Katie said. “But it would have involved speaking directly to Henrietta and it slipped out o’ my mind. Not that she probably woulda cooperated. That’s the problem with this kind o’ research.

  “And the lad who jilted her? I suppose ye need tae know.” Katie said with a serious expression.

  “Yes, who was he?”

  And I was thinking maybe he was the key to this whole case. I wasn’t sure how, not this early, not yet, but it was one more place to look.

  And that was when I found out.

  The young man who stole Henrietta McCloud’s heart had been my father.

  * * *

  At first I’d been stunned. Blindsided. Not believing it. Truths, half truths, lies. What was the case this time? Truth gets twisted in the telling, especially over time, Katie had said at the beginning, and she repeated it when she saw my expression.

  But the more I thought about it on that slow drive back to Glenkillen along the snowy narrow roadway, the more I accepted their past relationship as truth.

  Henrietta had been sneaking peeks at me that morning when we’d met. No wonder she’d been interested in me. She must have seen the resemblance, would have known my grandfather. My presence there must have dredged up more than a few memories. Hopefully some of them had been good ones.